


Loving In Equality

by khorybannefin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Minor Violence, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25004458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khorybannefin/pseuds/khorybannefin
Summary: Dean decides going on a hunt us too dangerous for you. After you fight, and lose, things get intense.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Loving In Equality

Loving In Equality

Pairing: Dean + Reader

Reader Gender: Female

Writer Gender: Female

Author: Khory

Words: 4259

Summary: Dean decides going on a hunt is too unsafe for you. You fight it out until you lose and things get intense.

Warnings: Smut, brief violence between Dean and reader, partial strangulation, language

“You’re not going Y/N and that’s final!”

Dean punctuated his words by slapping his hand flat on the cheap wooden table in the motel you and the boys were staying in. Sam looked surprised at his brothers vehemence, but didn’t say anything. His eyes just widened and his brow raised. Of course, it wasn’t Sam that Dean was addressing.

The three of you were in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma. You were hunting something referred to in John Winchester’s notes as a “Well Keeper”. Often associated with the fairy tales of Jenny Greenteeth the Well Keeper would lure people into drowning. It focused mostly on young women. It had been your idea to use yourself as bait to draw it out, figuring you at your most innocent seeming would be irresistible to the creature. Dean took a very violent stand against it, for reasons you sort of understood but wasn’t going to stand for. As Dean let out his little proclamation your eyes narrowed. Fixed in fury upon Dean you slowly rose to your feet.

“Sam,” you said quietly. “I need to speak with your brother alone.”

Sam looked at you both from his view in the chair. His laptop was open in front of him and the table itself was scattered with work and research. He took in Dean, his face red, jaw clenched. Then he looked at you, staring at Dean with barely contained fury. He finally stood.

“Ok,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll be in the diner. Just try not to break anything.”

Sam made a quick exit, shutting the door softly behind him. Being a motel door it locked automatically, which was good because you had made a bet with yourself that this was going to get loud and you didn’t want anyone barging in. Dean took a deep breath, looking kind of nervous now. You cut him off before he could speak.

“Dean Winchester, you misogynist prick! How dare you tell me where I can and can’t go? For starters, you’re not the boss of me. I’m not your little brother to be ordered around. I’m a damned good Hunter in my own right and you’ve just cut me down to the pathetic little damsel that you have to keep safe. I can take care of myself! I’m not a China doll you can just lock in a cupboard when things get dangerous!”

During your entire tirade you’d been advancing on him with a stalking gate. Your eyes were narrowed, flashing in fury. Your entire body was tense and you were spitting these words at him through clenched teeth. You didn’t think you’d been this mad in your entire life. This time it was you who took a breath and got cut off by Dean.

“In this case you’re exactly the damsel in distress, or you would be if I let you go out there. You know that thing can mess with your head. You really think being a good Hunter is going to prevent it diving into your head and rendering you just as helpless as it wants you to be? You really think I’d let that happen?”

Dean was just as angry as you were. You could tell that “misogynist” remark had hit a nerve. Truth be told, Dean liked women. Liked them a lot. And for all that he enjoyed their company, both in bed and out, he was just as chivalrous in his way as Sammy the white knight. Dean wasn’t backing down in the face of your anger. He was standing still, watching you confront him, and didn’t move until you were right in front of him.

“I can take care of myself,” you said in a harsh whisper.

“Oh, yeah?”

Dean had you in an arm lock before you knew what he was doing. Rage blinded you. How dare he turn this physical? Oh he was going to play on your weakness in a fight against a full grown man, was he? You’d be damned if you were going to let him get away with that.

You dove forward, hard, using your tensed arm and his grip on it to pull him forward and flip him over you. He landed flat but was up and instant later. You’d landed in a crouch and stood slowly, waiting for his next move. You didn’t have to wait long.

He came at you, actually swinging this time. You moved and dodged, always more flexible than he was, the brute. He overextended a swing and you moved him past you, using his own momentum to throw him into the nearest wall. He hit with a growl and launched himself at you again. This time he was moving faster. Your dodges weren’t quite fast enough and you kept catching glancing blows. He finally caught you just right under one arm. You grunted out a breath and he pinned you against the wall with his forearm across your throat.

“And you’re dead.”

Dean said it matter of factly as you struggled against his grip, trying to pull free. He wasn’t strangling you, but he was definitely making it hard to breathe. You raised your knee hard, aiming for his crotch. Dean, however, had grown up with a brother and knew that trick. He shifted his hips to protect his delicate bits and it pushed him just off balance enough for you to push him away from you.

“That wasn’t a real fight Dean and you know it. I wouldn’t be blindsided or unarmed. And I’d have you and Sam for backup. Why is this such a problem for you? You’ve let me take lead on interrogations. You’ve even had me seduce information out of marks. Why are you suddenly so concerned for my safety?”

Dean made a frustrated sound, driving both hands through his hair as you bombarded him. When you hit the last question his hands dropped and he practically roared at you.

“Because I care about you damnit!”

He was loud. He was louder than he’d ever been, especially around you. He was looking at you now with an expression that begged you to understand both his rage and his concern. You were startled enough that you knew your jaw had dropped. All you could hear in the silence of the room was your labored breathing.

“Look,” Dean said, turning away and checking the gun next to his bed, not looking at you.

“It’s not that you’re not a good Hunter. It’s not that I don’t trust you or your abilities. You’ve been in dangerous places before. We all have. But this time it’s different. You are just prey to that thing out there, and the thought of it getting ahold of you…”

His voice trailed off, as if he didn’t want to admit how it made him feel. You stepped closer to him. He almost flinched away, but you put a hand on his arm, feeling the tension of the muscles there. He was holding himself so very carefully in check, and you weren’t sure why. With your other hand you lay it on his cheek and turned his face towards you.

“Are you afraid it will get me? That you won’t be able to stop it?”

Your eyes searched his face, questioning, looking for some sign as to what he was feeling. Was it fear? Paranoia? Some misplaced sense of guilt? Your eyes stared into the clearest green you’d ever seen in your life. A sweetly freckled boys face, hardened by years of life experience and tense with suppressed emotion. You’d never noticed before how expressive his face could be. It was always Sam who was the sensitive one on the surface. But now that you were standing this close you could see that Dean felt just as deeply as Sam. He was just used to hiding it. His lips trembled slightly, and you stared at them. You’d never noticed his mouth before either. It looked soft. You remembered all the smiles you’d seen, innocent and wicked both, form on those lips. You’d never seen him with anyone, but you found yourself imagining what kissing him would be like. You could not pull your eyes away from his mouth as he started to speak.

“I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you Y/N. Especially if I could have saved you just by not letting you go in the first place.”

You tore your eyes away from his full lips and looked at him. He voice had gone husky and his eyes shone a little too brightly. It was almost as if it had hurt him to admit that he was that worried about you, that he cared that much. You realized you were standing much too close. Your hand was still on his arm, the other cupping his face, thumb brushing lightly across the stubble on his cheek. He was very warm this close to you. You could smell soap under the scent of leather from his coat. And under that was him, a dark scent like a pine forest in the dark. He was looking down at you. He saw when your thoughts changed, and you watched his eyes shift to something less tearful and more heated.

“Dean?” Your voice was soft, querulous. You didn’t know what you were asking for in that moment. Elaboration? Permission? Dean figured it out for you, and answered you without a word.

His lips, those full and wondrous lips you’d just been imagining, descended on you with a heat that surprised you. He turned into you and pulled you to him, deepening the kiss. You were dizzy with the feel of him against you. A hot line burned down your body wherever he was pressed against you. His kiss was making you drunk, and you clung to him in a desperate bid to keep your legs under you. One of his hands buried itself in your hair, holding you captive as his tongue ghosted past your lips. A craving you hadn’t known existed inside you answered his passion like a rising tide.

Your fingers dug into the back on his shoulders, pulling him down to you as you rose up on tiptoe to meet him. Your tongue warred with his and you took his bottom lip hostage, sucking that delicious fullness. He groaned into your mouth and you made a pleased noise. He pulled away, staring at you with a fevered gaze as he stripped the flannel shirt off his shoulders and yanked the tee over his head.

“God, please don’t let this be a dream.”

The yearning in his voice hit you low in the stomach and you could feel yourself swell with need. He was on you again and this time your hands could roam. His skin was soft, covered in the same pattern of freckles as his nose. You wanted to take the time to kiss every single one, but you knew you couldn’t hold out for that this time. The muscles in his back and shoulders bunched and shifted under your touch as his own hands dived under your clothes.

Strong fingers played up and down your spine. They came caressing over your hips and up your ribs. You broke the kiss to let him divest you of your own shirt. Your head fell back as his mouth discovered the hollow of your throat. You felt his hands as he took your breasts and rubbed his thumbs across your very erect nipples. He pinched one and rolled it between his fingers, pulling at it through the fabric. You moaned, arching against him.

“Not a dream,” you gasped.

Dean growled against your throat as he searched your bra for hooks. He wasn’t finding them in the back. You grabbed his hands and put them back in front. He popped all eight open at once without even looking. The bra fell to the floor and his mouth was all over your breasts, sucking, biting, teasing with his tongue. It left you making little mewling sounds as you pushed your breasts into his mouth, begging for more.

He came back up and his kiss was almost brutal this time, the need in them bordering on violent. He ground his hips against you and you could feel the heat of his erection and how it strained at the jeans he was wearing. Your hand slid down and you grabbed him hard through the fabric.

“God damn, Y/N!” He moaned, pulling your hand roughly away from him. His face looked almost pained.

“You’ll kill me before I’ve even gotten started.”

Keeping his grip on that one wrist his other hand took a huge handful of your ass. You were still wearing the skirt. You’d worn it earlier in the day, and it was one of your favorites. It was silk that wrapped around you and tied. The feel of his hand, hot and demanding through the silk, was exquisite torture. He found the bow very quickly and tugged. The skirt whispered to the floor in a blood red pool of fabric. His hand found you again and hit only skin. He pulled back, looking down. You were bare. No panties, and no hair either. It seemed to be too much for him. Dean dropped to his knees, hands on your waist as he looked up at you.

“Dear god, you’re beautiful. Is it always like this?”

The hunger in his eyes was making you shiver. You smiled down at him, tugging a handful of hair.

“If you mean am I always shaved and panty-less then yes.”

“Fuck…” Deans comment trailed off into a pained groan and his eyes closed. With his head turned up like that and on his knees he looked almost like he was praying. His fingers dug into the soft roundness of your hips and he leaned into you. You felt it as his hot tongue flicked out and caught just the tip of your clit.

“Oh, yes,” you sighed, angling your hips to expose more of that sensitive place to his exploring mouth. This time when his tongue darted towards you it caught you full on and you gasped, hands in his hair. Dean slid one hand between your knees, encouraging you to open your legs a little wider, which you happily did. His tongue played circles around your clit until your legs were trembling and you were seconds from losing all strength in them. Dean seemed to know it was coming. He grabbed you behind your knees and pulled. Your legs gave out and you fell backwards, landing on the bed.

You sat up and looked down. Dean was grinning at you like a wicked boy who’d just gotten a new toy and was determined to play with it as hard as he could until it broke.

“God, Dean, don’t look at me like that!”

“Sorry, not sorry,” he said as he buried his face between your legs.

You were beyond wet at this point. You wanted him badly enough to scream, but as his mouth landed full on you all you could do was moan helplessly. You felt him pull away and you made a small disappointed noise. He started stroking you with his fingers. He made long slow strokes, the strength of his hands applying just enough pressure in the right places to make you mindless, a different pressure building inside.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Dean sounded astonished.

“Tell me you want me.” His voice went low, pure sex shooting through you like electricity, making all of your nerves tingle. His wonderful hands had not stopped, using your own slickness as a means to some unbearable sensation.

“I want you.” You gasped, hips arching into his touch. He pressed a finger inside you and you moaned, writhing under the penetration .

“Say it again,” he demanded, finger curving maddeningly slow, in and out.

“I want you!” You couldn’t stop squirming. It felt too good. And not being able to touch him was driving you crazy. He pushed a second finger into you, as slowly as the first, and continued to torture you slowly.

“Again,” he punctuated the word with a harder thrust of his fingers. That was what you wanted, what you needed. You were desperate and so close.

“Oh god, Dean, I want you! Please, don’t stop.”

You were moaning at every stroke, raising your hips into his hand. He watched you, thrashing and helpless against the motel sheets as he increased his speed. He took in every second as you went from moaning to screaming, head tossing and thighs clamped tight around his hand. He didn’t stop moving until he’d reduced you to a quivering wreck. He pulled his fingers out of you and crawled onto the bed. Your eyes were half lidded, still lost in pleasure. He slipped his fingers into your mouth and you tasted your own desire. Your orgasm had soaked him and he didn’t seem to mind. You looked over at him, smiling, as you licked his fingers. His eyes were raw lust as he watched and felt your tongue dance around and through the fingers he had just pleasured you with.

He pulled his fingers away and claimed your mouth. Now the taste of him and you were mixed in your mouth and you loved it. You could feel him moving on the bed and knew he’d doffed the damned jeans when hot skin and hard flesh pressed against your hip. You raised yourself up on one elbow and looked down the taut line of his muscled torso to see the evidence of his unsatisfied desire. Unable to resist you reached down and stroked him with just your fingertips. He moaned into your shoulder.

“Do you want more?” You teased.

“Fuck yes I want more!”

You couldn’t help it. The next stroke was just with your fingernails. He sank his teeth into your neck, hard enough to draw a gasping cry from you.

“Keep that up and I’ll make you pay,” he growled. All you could do was chuckle darkly. You’d revisit this talk of punishment later, but right now you wanted to see him struggle in your hands much as you had just nearly died in his.

You fingers were more slender, more delicate, but no less strong than his as they wrapped around him. You could just barely touch your fingers together. Firmly you pulled from the base all the way up, curling your fingers over the head and using his own precum to stroke back down again.

“God! Fucking hell. You’ve got no idea how bad I want you right now.”

He thrust his hips into your hand, growing even harder as you squeezed and pulled, slowly, up and down. He lay back on the bed, yanking a pillow behind his head so he could watch your hand move over him, so terribly slow. You looked up into those killer eyes.

“I want to taste you.”

“Oh hell yes.”

He pulled your hair back from your face and watched you with hungry eyes as you clamped your hand around the base of his cock and drove your mouth down onto him. He cried out, arching up from the bed and pushing your head down. You took as much of him as you could, letting your hand work what your mouth couldn’t reach. Slowly, deliciously, you savored every inch of him with lips and tongue. You sucked blood up into the sensitive head and then rubbed your tongue across it.

“God, fuck! Where did you learn to do that?”

It wasn’t a serious question, but yours was. You pulled your mouth away, slowly stroking him, the wetness from your mouth letting your fingers slide much more easily.

“Tell me you want me,” you said, mimicking him.

“Damn Y/N you know I do!”

You sucked down on him hard until his fist him your hair was gripped tight enough to hurt. Again you came up, leaving slick fingers to work on him.

“Say it again.”

“God damn it, yes, I fucking want you!”

Again your mouth went down. He was cursing above you, head thrown back as he fought against the pleasure you were giving him. You knew his resolve couldn’t last much longer, and you really didn’t want it to. Seeing him like that, driven to the brink with passion for you, was enough to drench you yet again. You needed him so badly in that moment you thought you might orgasm from the desire alone. You pulled your lips away from him, sucking the sensitive head until your mouth literally popped off the end.

“Again,” you demanded. “Tell me you want me.”

“Fucking hell! I want you! I love you! I need you, right fucking now!”

Unable or unwilling to wait any longer he grabbed you by the shoulders and dragged you up his body. His kisses were vicious, bruising you with pressure and drawing a little blood with his teeth. That didn’t put you off. In fact, you found it quite hot. It was like he was going to eat you from your mouth right to your soul.

His hands gripped your waist so hard you knew you’d bear the marks of his hands for a week, purple against your pale skin. You straddled him, the hard length of his erection laying against his stomach. You ran the soft, wet folds of your sex up and down the rigid length of him, almost masturbating yourself against him. He shifted his hips down and you slid up and the head of him caught in your opening. He tried to pull you down, but you resisted, bracing your legs in the bed. Slowly, oh so slowly, you made circles with your hips, swirling down onto him a fraction of an inch at a time.

“Holy fucking god! How are you so tight? You feel so good!”

He was tense with want under your hands and you knew what he felt, because you could feel it too. You’d never been promiscuous. You weren’t a virgin by any means, but this wasn’t something you did often. You were practically untouched, but only enough to make it amazing. You could feel him, the rock hard heat of him, pushing inside. You could feel your insides stretch around him, conforming to his shape as though your body were designed just for him, and his for you. When your ass finally settled onto his lap you both moaned. Feeling him filling you up was beyond incredible. You couldn’t help wanting to move. He tried to stop you but you pulled yourself up and nearly off of him, sliding all the way back down. The slick evidence of your desire made moving dazzlingly easy and so good you were breathless.

“God, please, Y/N, just fuck me.”

You tried to take it slow, but that was not what either of you wanted. Dean broke first. With a desperate cry of raw need he flipped you onto your back and thrust into you hard, all the way to the hilt.

“Yes!” you screamed, arching your back and pulling him into you. Your legs rode high on his hips, your hands clinging to the back of his shoulders. He rode you hard and fast, face buried in your neck. He pounded in and out of you and waves began to build. Your hips and his rocked together and you felt his breath start to hitch.

“Oh god Dean! I’m so close!”

His pace started to falter, as though your words were all it talk.

“I’m right there baby. Cum for me.”

The orgasm hit you and the world exploded into velvet fog and white noise. Dimly you could feel your fingers clawing into Deans back and hear yourself screaming his name as pleasure coursed over and through you in time to your racing heartbeat. Coming down left you boneless and your mind in a haze. When your vision came back Dean was looking down at you, skin sheened with sweat much as you imagined your own must be.

“Never,” he whispered. “I’ve never had a more perfect moment in my whole life. I love you Y/N. I’ve loved you forever. To quote a song, I think I loved you before I met you. You are like the most gorgeous dream come to life. Stay with me. Promise you’ll stay.”

“Oh Dean,” you were smiling like an idiot and you felt tears in your eyes. No one had ever said anything so beautiful to or about you. Your chest hurt, clenched so hard you could barely breathe.

“I never want to leave. I’ll stay as long as you’ll let me. Forever.”

There followed the sweetest kiss in the history of mankind. It was the kind of kiss people wrote songs and poetry about. You were still tangled up, sweaty and naked, smiling and touching and kissing each other when Sam popped his head in the door to the motel.

“Shit! For fucks sake put a sign out or something!”

The door slammed shut and you couldn’t help it. You both laughed until your whole body hurt. Poor Sammy. The image of his brothers bare ass would be burned into his memory forever.


End file.
